All You Can Eat
by Ruffluv
Summary: See cover picture for selected prompt.


Prompt: Ex gf anonymously sends Chinese buffet vouchers to ex bf—they've been separated 3 years

 **The Year of the Rabbit(s)**

" You have to beat the buffet." Crunch.

"They think they've got the better of you. They want you to give up." Snap.

Sitting there, tearing into a basket of prawn crackers, this fruit basket of a person proceeded to tell me the plan with military precision.

"The first trip is merely scoping out the territory, seeing what's on offer, taking a bit of it all. Then, you weigh up your options…"

 _That WAS sensible…_

"Assign each food a value and fill your plate with the favourites—no filler. I'm talking egg foo young, fried rice, plenty of meat…"

 _Meat…_

Muscles rippled to the rythmn of his rapid hand movements. I was hungry all of a sudden.

I licked my lips as my mind left the table.

"If you feel full…"

 _Feeling full…_ So hard to remember how that felt…

"…feel free to take a break; there's no time limit here."

His fearless, shameless living in the moment and the passion pouring out of him were intoxicating. I wasn't imbibing any toxins through liquid; drinks were how these places made their money…

"Then head back in."

He produced a dazzling smile, displaying a perfect set of teeth. Caramel streaks in his hair warmed up his creamy skin. His eyes were almond in colour and shape.

He was sort of…beautiful… _Well done, Alice._

We had a scheme at Uni. Sorry, Alice had a scheme at Uni. _Another one._

Students were allocated someone to go out with at random from a database of our year.

You didn't argue with Alice.

I was assigned to Edward. Or he was assigned to me.

"And then…then…when it's all too much…you turn to your secret weapon…"

He went into his yellow back-pack, being sure none of the staff were able to see, and showed me some sort of… storage box?

"Only stuff that suits being taken out, of course; you can't be silly about it."

"Of course." I said, sarcastically.

I should have been thoroughly repulsed.

But it was love at first bite.

That was our first blind date at Charlie's Chinese-I'm aware that sounds about as oriental as…something really Western..?

After doing one from the restaurant with what were technically stolen goods—and getting away with it, raw adrenaline took hold.

Half a bottle of the cheapest off-licence wine later and I was on Edward's bed. Bloated. Asleep.

At some point in the night, the sodium levels must have abated, as I awoke with a wicked thirst but less of a belly. I was so self-conscious about my stomach…

It took a bit of working out where I was before I went in search of some water, Edward still sleeping soundly on top of the sheets.

I was shuffling back from the shared bathroom in the student abode as Edward eyed me up and down from where he was sat up.

"Damn," he said. "I scored more than free food last night."

He was funny when he was trying to be too.

"Not exactly," I said. "Nothing happened."

"Hey, you can't have everything."

I edged towards him. My heart pounded, heating my cheeks. "Do you want…everything?"

His eyes took me in greedily again. "All I can eat." His voice dripped with dangerous intention, his eyes sparkling with possibilities.

He grabbed my hand, getting me horizontal. Hovering over me, he smelled delicious, the drug-like aroma akin to cumin or vetiver.

We got to work on my standard student uniform of T-shirt and jeans, tossing them to the side.

He caressed me carefully at first, then with a tighter, kneading grip on my flesh.

He held the top of my head as his tongue met mine tenderly.

His other hand moved between my gradually widening legs and through the side of my underwear as I ground my hips.

He dipped deep into my honey, working the finger that had been inside me into my mouth and then his own. Tasting myself and watching him taste me in turn with his eyes never leaving mine made me need him all the more.

"I want to see you."

He slipped out of his own trousers and T and then, his shorts, throwing them out of sight as I stared, open-mouthed.

"Satisfied?"

 _For starters._

Seeing him undressed when was somewhat dressed— in a flimsy, minty -coloured cami set—had me taking more charge as I hitched a leg across him, coming to lean over him.

But he was adamant; he was running this, at least for now.

He made this known by tugging slightly at my hair, stopping my advances so he could slide down my body, marking a trail of kisses as he went like he might forget the way back to my mouth.

He brought up the lace at my stomach, landing his lips there in such a way that even that part of me felt sexy.

When he made it to my inner thighs, his incredibly long fingers found their way under each one.

I wasn't sure where to leave my hands: by my head, on his arms…The wet sound of his lips on my skin was sending me into spasms.

I attempted to stifle the sounds coming out of me with small moans and well-placed giggles, but it was no good; I was a goner.

And I wasn't above begging. "Please, please, please."

 _Please Sir, can I have some more?_

As he put his tongue to my pussy, I gave myself over to him one hundred percent, melting into the feeling.

It was the turn of my legs to thrash around; they were straight and shaking, they were bent and shaking, they were on his shoulders with my toes pointed…

When he heard me say his name, he saw that as the sign he was after to slide down my thong, taking a well-earned few seconds to take a breather.

And then he went back in.

As he shook his head from side to side right where I wanted it, I reached for his fingers, entwining them with mine.

"Fuck!" I was worried I might explode or something if he stayed on me the way he was.

I had to work hard to haul myself up against his strength, but I succeeded—momentarily.

My mouth met his as I sat up, nibbling at his bottom lip, sinking my nails into his sweat-shined surfaces. My own scent swept through my nose; my juices surrounded our tongues.

 _My God, I was all over his face!_

"I'm not done yet."

Down I went again.

And down he went again, two digits added to the mix this time, oiling me from within.

When he slowly took his head away to take in the view of his fingers moving in me, a fine fluid line flowed from my soft folds to his lower lip, like spun sugar. It almost crossed the line into disgustingly erotic, from the way the thick watch looked on his wrist and the way he positioned his thumb, to the way the two fingers were lost to my flesh from the first knuckles upwards.

I couldn't fight my impending orgasm for much longer.

When he lapped at my clit once more, I came hard, hiding my face from him, then too far gone to think about what was going on there.

He had gone back to placing kisses inside my thighs, looking deservedly happy with himself.

I was already visually hunting around for some protection when he planted a sweet kiss on my pussy, like a finishing touch. 

I had to have him.

Then, afterwards, I'd have the prawn toast and spring rolls I knew he was packing.

Having sex with Edward was an experience to say the least; large portions and plenty of courses.

And yes, he was always that…attentive… Oral—on me—wasn't just foreplay for Edward; it was a main event.

We'd fuck 'til our bellies rumbled.

We were adventurous as well, spicing it up; whipped cream, honey, chocolate lick…A collection of condom flavours that could hold its own next to the biggest candy store. Strawberry was my favourite.

So it's safe to say that there were never any issues in that department.

I don't know when and why it started to go wrong; we had so much common ground, despite the fact we were doing different courses; me Genetics and him Literature.

He was a dreamer, where as I was the practical one—in all things except winning at Chinese buffets…

We went to Charlie's most weekends; Edward enjoyed eating out, Chinese being his first choice.

 _Or joint first. Or second…_

On the rare occasion I convinced him to try other types of restaurants, he reverted back to his other great pastime.

Like during restaurant week in town, when we did seafood- and when I say "did"… Have you ever seen someone pretend to carry out oral sex on an oyster?

I'm surprised we weren't shown the door.

That day, he earned his comical nickname: King Clam

He'd do stuff like that 'til I couldn't stand it, so I'd call for the bill and straight-up tackle him as soon as we were through the door at home.

If I ever tried the same treatment on him, he'd only have me in kinks of laughter, like that time in the Lebanese grill when I was gripping at chunks of chicken, guiding them up the stick as seductively as I could without too much biting action while I winked cheekily at him.

"Cheese-grating", as was Edward's crude phrase of choice for the act of sucking him off and adding in just the right amount if teeth.

"Oh hell no!" He hollered.

"You are gonna get a pounding and a half!" He promised me a little more quietly.

I giggled gleefully.

"Harder than that!" He nodded his head towards the open kitchen where a chef was hitting a tough cut with some sort of tool.

I spurted my smoothie all over my not-so-smoothie and then struggled to compose myself, wondering at the tools Edward had at his disposal, like his humour, for one.

He could literally laugh me in to bed—as if he even needed that…

I suppose the Clam King was a little shellfish sometimes, but he was only human and it wasn't as if I wasn't a winner in those situations too at the end of the day.

And he was sweet and sensitive; Cut him open and you'd find marshmallow, even if he swore he was a stick of hard rock.

In our spare time, when we weren't at Charlie's or on our bed-shaped island, we'd go to gigs together since we had the same taste in music, from musician friends with a slot somewhere local, to larger scale shows like Kings of Leon, Prince… when we had some extra to spend that was.

Money was tough to come by since we worked short hours whenever we could wangle them between lectures.

Just as well we could eat like King and Queen at Charlie's for just over a fiver each.

Edward always forked out more than me; he was a gent like that.

 **The Year of the Rat**

I knew something smelled fishy when he said he wasn't hungry.

"Come take a walk with me?"

More alarm bells; he wasn't much of a walker.

We happened to be right by the woods, so we went that way.

He was silent for so long, I was beginning to feel like we were trapped in some teen drama...like soft rock should be playing in the background…

He stopped, turning sharply.

"Bella, I've decided to take a year out."

A _gap year? My mouth was agape._

"Alright… What would we be doing?"

He waited for the penny to drop. "When I say taking a year out, I mean by myself."

My whole life plan was torn to pieces like breaking bread: A research lab of my own, living with Edward, maybe me eating for two one day…

"Edward, I know we've been spending less time together with working and exams, but it won't always be such a plateful…"

"True, but then there's so much else to think about… Is this truly what we want?"

"It's what I want." My brain was a scramble of images I'd seen of our future together.

"Well, I want to be sure."

That torn-up life plan? Edward was now lighting it on fire.

"I'm coming." How could two words spoken to the same person take on such a different tone and term of meaning? But they still had that weight behind them.

"Bella, I don't want you to come." His words weighed down heavier on mine. Not what I was used to hearing him say in response either.

"You…don't want me?"

"No."

"That makes it clearer. A lot." Every bone in my body wanted to not believe it, but I had no appetite for delusion.

I sucked in rapid breaths to keep from crying.

If this were a movie, the camera would be close-up on us right now.

"I won't contact you, so you can get on with your life." Like he was being generous.

I was livid all of a sudden.

"If this is about money, I'll extend my student loan, so I can contribute more. Money means nothing to me without-"

"It's not about money. I'm not sure we should be settling at this point in our lives."

"You don't think I'm worth settling for."

He didn't answer my out-loud thought.

"I'm sorry; I should have told you how I felt sooner."

"Don't."

I didn't want to listen to any more.

I'd been blissfully unaware I was backing a losing horse for who knows how long? I was so sad that he would do our relationship a disservice like that.

Almost as sad as I was that he was leaving me.

"Bye, Bella."

He left me there like a morsel of food you've been pushing around your plate and are finished with.

Flickers of anger punctuated the period of depression I fell into.

It was a fight just to pull on sweat pants and go through the motions.

I constantly checked my e-mails and streamed Prince's Nothing Compares to you (and the Sinead O' Connor version), convinced that when writing it, the man had wiretapped the innermost workings of my mind:

"I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant…But nothing can take away these blues…"

 _Really?_

It was the tiny things I missed the most: him making my eggs just the way I liked them, him letting me lick the knife after he'd buttered the toast.

It became clearer to me with each passing moment that this pain had no expiry date.

 ***3 years later***

" **15% off your meal!"**

That was like the 15th time this month these voucher packs had been posted through my letterbox.

And I hadn't so much as looked at a prawn cracker since…

I was all about a clean diet these days anyway.

I scrumpled them up and was about to throw them into recycling when a strange idea popped into my mind as abruptly as a corn kernel in a microwave:

 _Maybe I could send them to Edward?_

It made sense to pass them on to someone who would make good use of them…

I'd heard through the grapevine that he'd been back in town these last two years, living in the apartments above the dental surgery.

If I posted an anonymous letter addressed to him to that property, it was bound to find its way to its intended recipient.

Worst case scenario: It didn't.

So I sent them: ten money-saving coupons in a sealed envelope with a printed label left my hands, hopefully to end up in his.

It was hell, waiting to see if the world stopped turning.

But nothing changed.

So I sent some more.

Soon, it became part of my routine as much as paying my bills or grocery shopping.

It gave me some comfort, connecting with him, even if only on that basis. Even though he had no idea.

It was like resisting the wine, but breathing in its bouquet.

One Thursday evening, I was being spoon- fed trash by my TV when the buzzer at the entrance of my apartment buzzed.

I pressed the button. "Hello?"

"Hello. I have a delivery for this number?"

 _At this hour?_ I didn't have anything arriving that I was aware of…

"A delivery of what?"

"Er, your order?"

"What order?"

"Erm, an order from Happy Chopstick?"

"I haven't ordered anything."

I heard him curse over the intercom.

It was cold outside. And wet. And I didn't want his losing his job on my conscience. I was all too familiar with loss. And horrible jobs.

So I let him up. And handed him seven pounds for a takeout I never asked for.

No tip though; I was **not** a happy chopstick.

I tore through the white cellophane to have a spy at the contents.

I could smell the garlic already. Keeps those vampires away. But I'm not great with garlic. I wasn't even gonna peel the plastic lid off the box.

 _Wait, shiny primary colours: A fortune cookie?_

"A new wardrobe is in your future." The ones from the mall always seemed to encourage you to spend a fortune…

Then there were the typical generic ones: "Patience is your ally at the moment. Don't worry!"

And the annoying joke ones: "Pick another fortune cookie!" _Fucking hilarious._

 _What the hell. Things can't get much worse…_

I crushed the crisp outer shell, revealing the slip of paper hidden within.

I spread it out so I could read it.

The world stopped turning. Everything changed.

"Can we go round again? I won't give up this time."

Edward.

"


End file.
